The Graveyard Apartment (28 page)

“Hmm,” Teppei replied. He still seemed dissatisfied about something, and he spent the next few minutes rummaging through the fact sheets. Finally, he glanced up from the pile and said, “Yes, let's do that.”

Misao and Teppei followed the agent outside, and the three of them piled into one of the real estate company's corporate cars.

The single-family dwelling was their first stop, and that house turned out to be considerably more appealing than it appeared in the photograph: clean, cozy, and shipshape. The overall construction gave the impression of having been done on the cheap, but the exterior walls had been recently stuccoed and looked like new. It felt like the kind of house that would become exponentially more agreeable once the new occupants began to settle in and fix it up.

Misao's artistic imagination immediately sprang into action
. If we just planted clumps of marguerite daisies around here, it would look so much cuter,
she thought as she surveyed the entrance. The garden was larger than expected, and would get plenty of sun. There were a number of empty holes in the ground, which seemed to indicate that the previous tenants had dug up quite a few plants and taken them to their new house. In one corner of the garden a small flowerbed had been attractively laid out and those plants, at least, remained.

Misao caught Teppei's eye. “This seems fine to me,” she said. Teppei nodded in agreement. They had left Tamao back at the Central Plaza Mansion, in the care of Sueo and Mitsue Tabata, and it occurred to Misao that they should have just brought her along. What were they thinking, leaving their daughter behind in that unsafe building? She wished she could dash back there, grab Tamao, and move into the sweet little house right this minute.

The interior looked as worn as might have been expected from a longtime rental, but the tatami matting on the floors had been recently replaced and the rooms were filled with the earthy green scent of newly mowed hay.

“This room would be the master bedroom, and the other bedroom could be the nursery,” the real estate agent explained with an air of omniscience. “As for a living room, this end of the dining area should fit the bill well enough. The garden is quite large, so I don't think you'll feel too confined.”

“And the rent's only a hundred thousand yen? That's quite a bargain,” Teppei said.

The agent bobbed his head energetically. “The owner just happens to be the kind of person who doesn't want to raise the rent every time a new tenant moves in,” he said. “He really is a very kindhearted soul.”

A very kindhearted soul.
Misao was captivated by that phrase, although she couldn't have explained why.

The agent was looking at her with an oddly lewd smile, the likes of which he hadn't displayed before now. “I'm happy to see that you seem to be finding this place satisfactory, Mrs. Kano,” he said.

Misao averted her eyes and murmured, “Yes, totally.”

Standing a bit too close for comfort, the young man told her about the convenience store, liquor shop, and hospital that were all within easy walking distance—two minutes away, or three at the most. Then he added with a broad grin that he was fairly certain there was a maternity hospital in the neighborhood, as well. Misao wasn't sure what he was getting at with that remark, and she didn't want to know.

They left the little house behind and drove the few miles to the apartment building. It was in a rather scruffy location, just one street behind the lively blue-collar shopping district that had grown up around the next train station after Takaino. If you needed to describe the building in one word, “minimal” or “cramped” would probably be closest to the truth. There was no way it could have been called splendid, even in the most shameless copywriter's hyperbole, but the laundry fluttering on the narrow balconies and the cluster of housewives chatting in front of the building seemed to indicate that this was, at the very least, a place where people could feel safe and secure.

The man from the real estate company rang a buzzer labeled “Resident Manager.” The person who emerged from the caretaker's apartment was a benevolent-looking older man with salt-and-pepper hair.

“Hello, sir. Did you have a chance to let the occupant of the apartment on the third floor know that we'd be stopping by?” the agent asked politely.

“I did, I did. She's expecting you. Shall we go up?”

Beaming broadly, the resident manager exchanged nods of greeting with Misao and Teppei. “Right this way,” he said briskly as he led the group toward a nearby elevator.

The floor of the elevator was littered with assorted bits of rubbish, including the paper wrapper from an ice cream treat of some kind (probably dropped by a child) and a discount flyer from a local supermarket. The caretaker nonchalantly bent down to pick up the trash, then touched the “3” button. Turning to Misao, he said with a smile, “There are lots of children in this building, so it's a really cheerful place to live.”

The doorplate outside the third-floor apartment read “305.” The resident manager rang the doorbell, and a moment later a young woman opened the door and peeked out. “Please come in,” she said, opening the door all the way. “It's a total mess, but…”

The current tenant wore her hair in a short, sleek bob, and her lightly suntanned complexion was free of blemishes. She was dressed in tight jeans with the cuffs rolled up to expose her golden-brown ankles, and her high, round buttocks swayed from side to side as she turned and vanished into the apartment. A popular singing show was blaring from the television, but the set was quickly switched off. Hesitantly, the four visitors followed the woman into her tiny living room.

“We're so sorry to barge in like this,” Misao said. “I'm afraid we've disturbed you on your day off.”

“No, it's fine,” the young woman reassured her in a friendly way. “I'm busy getting ready to move next month, and I just had the TV on full blast to keep me company. I'm the one who should apologize for keeping you waiting.” The woman's smile exposed her oversized front teeth and made her look, momentarily, like a child.

“This young lady is getting married next month!” the resident manager announced. The woman flushed crimson up to her ears and she protested shyly, “Now, you didn't have to go and tell them that, Uncle.”

The man from the real estate office turned and looked away, as if nothing could interest him less than this stranger's marital prospects, but Misao and Teppei both offered polite congratulations. At this, the young woman's face turned a deeper red and she lowered her eyes in embarrassment.

The interior of the apartment consisted of a miniature living room that flowed directly into the kitchen, and two small Japanese-style bedrooms separated by sliding shoji doors. The layout was purely functional, and there were no unnecessary embellishments.

After taking in the living room's rather endearing decor, which centered on a plain white sofa bed framed in pale wood and garnished with two red, heart-shaped throw pillows, Misao said, “Thank you so much for showing us around. This has been very helpful.”

The young woman nodded. “It really isn't a bad apartment,” she said. “It gets a lot of light during the day, and there's more than enough storage space.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Misao responded with a smile. Glancing at Teppei, she could tell immediately that he didn't care for this place at all. Judging from his dissatisfied expression, he was probably thinking there was no way a family of three (not to mention a dog) could coexist in such a small, charmless space.

Misao, however, was thinking,
Yes, this might work for us, barely. Though compared with the spacious apartment we live in now, it would feel like a little box where we would only want to come home in order to sleep.

The group stayed inside the apartment for another minute or two, then said their polite thank-yous and farewells to the young woman. After they had filed out into the hallway, Misao (hoping to avoid being grilled by the agent) sidled up to Teppei and said in a low voice, “I think the house we looked at is a thousand times better than this, without a doubt.”

“That's putting it mildly,” Teppei said dryly.

“The house would give us a lot more space, and it's cheaper, too. And whatever you say, there's something special about having a garden, however small. Not only that, but the house is available now so we could move right in. I really can't bear to think about having to stick it out in our current place for another month.”

“The only thing is, the house is kind of far from the station.”

“Really? That seems like a minor drawback to me. You know what they say: ‘Beggars can't be choosers,'” Misao quipped, jocularly elbowing Teppei in the ribs. “No, seriously, I really want to move away as soon as possible.”

“I know, and we're totally on the same page about that,” Teppei agreed, but he couldn't hide his worried expression.

The real estate agent drove them back to the Shibuya office, where Teppei and Misao paid an initial deposit in cash and signed a temporary contract for the little house. The discussion ended with all parties agreeing that the Kanos would return to sign a permanent contract two days later, after they'd had a chance to transfer the necessary funds from their bank.

The next day was Sunday, the twenty-first of June. Early in the morning, the telephone rang. It was the young agent from the real estate office.

“Something terrible has happened,” the agent began, speaking in the dramatically lowered voice that always seems to accompany the delivery of bad news. “That little house burned down.”

“Burned down?” Misao echoed in disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“You know, the single-family rental you signed a provisional contract for? Somehow or other it caught fire last night and burned to the ground.”

Misao put one hand over her mouth and shot a dismayed glance at Teppei, who was sitting nearby on the couch.

“Right down to the ground,” the agent repeated, still speaking in the same hushed tone. “From what I hear, there was nothing left but ashes. This is just between us, but no one seems to have any idea what could have caused the fire. The gas and electricity had both been disconnected, so I can't help wondering whether it might have been arson.”

“And nothing else burned? Just that little house?”

Teppei got up and came to stand next to Misao. On the other end of the receiver the agent was saying, “That's right. Apparently the fire was confined to that one house. This is so unfortunate. I only got word about it just now myself. I know you were really looking forward to moving in there, but I'm afraid I have to ask what you'd like to do now.”

“But … what … I don't understand what you're saying,” Misao stammered. She felt suddenly chilled, as though a frozen worm were crawling up her spine, and she wasn't thinking straight. “I mean, what
can
we do? There's no way we could live in a house that's been burned to the ground, is there?”

“No, of course not. It's just that we've already received your money for the deposit,” the agent began. After a pause he continued, in a tone that suggested he'd been doing some hasty calculations in his head, “Perhaps you might want to reconsider the other place you looked at—the apartment? If you took that option, you wouldn't need to do any extra paperwork. We could just transfer your deposit to the other property.”

“Please let us think about it,” Misao said numbly.

She hung up the phone without saying good-bye and stood there dumbfounded, staring at Teppei. “So there was a fire or something?” Teppei asked.

Misao nodded. “That little house burned to the ground last night. There's nothing left at all.” They were both silent for a long moment while they fought to subdue the heavy, ominous feelings welling up in their chests.

“Well, then, we have no choice,” Teppei said finally, in a tone of quiet resignation. “We'll have to take that apartment.”

“That's a good solution,” Misao said, summoning up a crooked smile. “As the tenant said, it really wasn't bad at all.”

“Let's face it—anyplace is going to be better than here,” Teppei said. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and held a match to it with an unsteady hand.

 

16

July 1, 1987

Sueo Tabata's heart was acting up, so he had been spending most of his time lying in bed while his wife was out pounding the pavement nearly every day. The recent series of shocks to their aging nervous systems had taken a greater physical toll on Sueo, but neither of them was young or robust enough to go on dealing with such an abnormal degree of stress.

After they had submitted formal notice of their decision to vacate their resident manager positions at the Central Plaza Mansion, Mitsue threw herself into a full-bore search to find either a safe, pleasant, affordable place to live or, preferably, another resident manager position. The latter quest, in particular, required a mind-boggling amount of complicated paperwork. Since Sueo was out of commission, it had been necessary for Mitsue to do everything by herself, and she had toughened up considerably in the process.

The agents of the company ostensibly managing the Central Plaza Mansion had taken note of the startling fact that there was only one occupied unit in the building, not including the caretakers' apartment, and were apparently giving careful thought to their next step. They were not surprised to receive the Tabatas' letter of resignation, which Mitsue delivered in person, and it was accepted without objection. First, though, she was asked numerous questions—commonsensical queries that any employer would have posed, under the circumstances—including several variations on “What made you decide to resign from this position?” Instead of offering any details, Mitsue replied only in the sort of nebulous, noncommittal terms that she thought would seem most persuasive. Besides, who would have believed her if she had blurted out something like “Because that building is filled with evil spirits, and living there is a total nightmare! That's why nearly all the residents have moved out—they realized that something was very, very wrong!”?